


Rebuilding

by Iceshard1011



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: ANGST TIME, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deceit | Janus Sanders Angst, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: Flirting with Social Anxiety, Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, but they're getting better, everyone's sad okay, forgiving and moving on, mentions of breakdowns, mentions of manipulation, no plot head empty, the babies are sad, the dark sides as they crush on the light sides: okay so chose your emotionally damaged bf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iceshard1011/pseuds/Iceshard1011
Summary: Roman wants to cuddle. Virgil doesn’t want to move. Sharing the couch doesn’t seem so harmless.Until it kind of does.(And then it doesn't again.)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 18
Kudos: 141





	Rebuilding

Virgil had thought he was the only one still awake. Really, it wasn’t an unreasonable thought to have, at one o’clock in the morning with a family full of individuals who seemed to follow the unspoken rule of Highly Energetic During The Day Yet Dead To The World At Night.

So when movement caught his eye by the staircase and he fumbled with his phone so vigorously that he dropped it to the carpet with a mute _thump,_ he was glad there was only one witness of his undignified actions.

Regardless, that one witness, aside from his sleepy expression and slumped posture, seemed pretty amused.

“Tell anyone about that, and I’ll—”

“Relax,” said Roman around a yawn, “I won’t.”

“Don’t tell me to relax.” Virgil scowled.

Roman grinned, clearly entertained, and shuffled across the living room to the couch. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked and picked up Virgil’s phone. Virgil took it when it was offered and fiddled with the case between his fingers.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Roman nodded. “Me neither.” Virgil tilted his head in a silent question, but Roman then shook his head. “Just one of those nights, I suppose.”

Virgil shuffled further up the couch and curled his legs, allowing space on the far side of the seat for the prince. Roman decided to bypass that spare space completely and flopped down along the couch.

A breathy _oof_ huffed from Virgil, but he didn’t shove Roman off him. “I thought it was a well-known fact that I don’t like cuddling.”

Roman jolted, the first emotion aside from 'tiredly amused' crossing his face, and looked up in panic. “I— I just thought— I can go—”

Virgil shut him up by reaching up to cup the back of Roman’s head and pull the creative side back to his chest. “I’m teasing.”

Roman struggled against Virgil’s hands. He didn’t look convinced. “But... if you don’t feel comfortable—”

“You know that I’m okay with this,” Virgil interjected quietly. He was already scrolling his phone again.

“Yes, but— even with Patton, you don’t—”

“Good thing it’s not Patton stretching himself across me like an overgrown cat, then, isn’t it?” Virgil said.

Roman huffed with a chuckle, and Virgil felt him relax again. Virgil found himself absentmindedly carding his fingers through Roman’s hair as he kept his eyes on his phone.

Predictably, after recent events involving Thomas, the pair had gotten a great deal closer. Incidentally, they’d both drifted from the rest of the sides. Neither of them was fond of Janus, nor had Virgil found himself unwilling to be as affectionate with Patton as he was used to. The day Roman had staggered into his room, trembling, eyes brimming with tears, Virgil had decided he wasn’t too fond of _anyone_ involved with causing the creative side pain.

(Himself, included. He’d been so relieved when Roman had ordered Thomas to attend the wedding. If he was feeling bold enough, some days he would consider the feeling breaching _proud._ But the aftermath of the wedding, the shouting, the lecturing, the— _everything_ that had come with that redux... Virgil realised he hated himself just as much as he hated Janus.)

But then the creative side had chosen Virgil, over Patton, over Logan, over his own damn bedroom, to come to and trust and seek comfort, and Virgil privately decided to himself that he was never going to let anything hurt him again.

Roman had never questioned it, but he had never complained, either. In fact, he’d always seemed quite pleased whenever Virgil didn’t pull away from any affection Roman offered. And maybe it was guilt, the first few times Virgil plainly accepted a friendly nudge or cheeky hair-ruffle without a glare, but gradually he found he actually enjoyed being embraced, or poked in the ribs, or on occasions like the one currently, being used as a giant body pillow.

“It’s kind of unfair how comfortable you are,” Roman mumbled randomly into the silence.

Virgil moved his phone to raise an eyebrow down at the prince. “You’re lucky I haven’t booted your ass off, yet.”

“No,” Roman whined. “I am but humbly seeking your presence, a mere beggar searching for comfort—”

“Okay,” gently interrupted Virgil, “no poetry this early in the morning, Princey.”

“That wasn’t really poetry,” Roman mused. “It was kind of... fancy complaining.”

“You said it, not me,” Virgil said. He placed his phone down and entertained himself with playing with Roman’s unruly bed hair.

“I did,” Roman agreed sleepily. His eyes were already closed, his nose buried against Virgil’s chest. Against his wishes, Virgil’s own eyelids were beginning to droop.

 _Just a couple of hours,_ Virgil thought.

His last thought was figuring that it was the dead of night and he wouldn’t have to worry about any of the others seeing them until morning.

Hours later, he startled awake to find a pair of dubious, mismatched eyes blinking down at him.

Virgil almost jolted so hard he feared he would’ve not only woken Roman up, but probably thrown him onto the floor, too.

 _“What the hell do you want,”_ he hissed. He would have been writhing and spitting like a furious cat if he wasn’t so conscious of waking up Roman, who was heavy across Virgil’s torso, inhaling breaths that were so deep they were almost snores.

Janus didn’t look impressed, nor even slightly intimidated. It was infuriating that he could guess Virgil wasn’t going to lunge at him if he said something Virgil didn’t like.

“I thought you didn’t like being cuddled,” Janus said, and he sounded far too damn amused.

“Maybe I just didn’t like _you,”_ Virgil growled.

“Scathing as always, little spider,” Janus hummed.

Virgil bared his teeth. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Getting breakfast.”

“Ha-ha,” spat Virgil, “it’s not like it’s...” He looked around. Sunlight was trickling in through the window. The clock on the wall above him was reading... six o’clock?

_Shit._

Roman was still snoring away, showing no sign of moving or waking. Virgil looked to the top of the staircase, wondering if he was going to see the rest of the sides traipsing down, ready to spot him and laugh.

“Relax.” Janus said it with a flippant flick of his wrist. Virgil felt another spike of irritation. He was surprised Roman hadn’t woken up from how tense Virgil had gotten beneath him. “I volunteered myself to make breakfast this morning. No one is going to be up for at least another hour or two.”

“Oh, good one,” Virgil said scathingly. “Enjoy telling _'_ _helpful'_ lies, now?”

“Oh, goodness.” Janus ran a gloved hand down his face, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “It’s far too early.”

“What, to deal with me?” Virgil asked.

“Yes.” Janus said it so bluntly Virgil actually stopped, wondering what he was trying to achieve. “And to try and remind you, once again, that I don’t constantly speak in lies.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to trust everything you say,” Virgil snapped.

Janus sighed again, but he didn’t have a chance to say anything before a yawn interrupted both of them.

Virgil looked down, locking gazes guiltily with Roman.

“You guys argue awfully loud,” he rasped, voice scratchy with sleep. He yawned again, squinting, and stretched. He promptly buried his face back into Virgil’s shirt. “S’early.”

“It is,” Janus agreed. Virgil was almost ready to let it go and allow Janus to do what he wanted in the kitchen, but then he felt Roman go rigid at Janus’ voice. Virgil almost didn’t know why, but then remembered the way the creative side had sobbed, keeling in on himself in the middle of Virgil’s floor, wailing about the trial, and the wedding, and compliments and lies and _smirks and mistakes—_

And he remembered how Roman had escaped every room Janus had appeared in, and how he never looked Janus in the eyes, and Virgil’s arms tightened protectively around his prince. He glared up at Janus, who was watching Roman with round eyes. Virgil knew how perceptive he was. He wasn’t particularly sorry to see the stricken expression on the snake’s face.

But then Janus looked away and took a step back, and Virgil spotted his fingers tapping rapidly against his leg. It was a fidgeting habit that Virgil hardly ever saw; mostly because Janus was too proud to ever let anyone see him fidget.

Virgil didn’t know how he felt about that, but it must have been a show of _something_ when he didn’t snipe at Janus again when he moved to the kitchen.

Instead, he focused on rubbing his hands up and down Roman’s back, feeling him slowly relax again, but from the way he gripped Virgil's shirt in tight fistfuls, he was far from calm.

Just Roman’s luck, that he was stuck with the side who was next to useless with affection.

Acting on instinct and impulse and the distant memory of Patton doing the same thing to Virgil himself in the aftermath of a particularly bad panic attack, Virgil moved to stroke Roman’s cheek with the back of his knuckles as gently as he could.

Roman startled and looked up at Virgil. He finally smiled, his eyes twinkling, and Virgil gave him a small smirk in return.

“Coffee, either of you?” Janus asked from the kitchen, followed by the sound of mugs clinking. His tone would have sounded pleasantly smooth to anyone else, but Virgil could hear the distant strain in his voice.

Virgil glanced down at Roman, who stretched (and he really did look like a cat, then) and shrugged. “We should probably get up for the day, anyway.”

Virgil wouldn't have considered getting anything from the snake, but if Roman was thinking about having a coffee...

“Two,” Virgil said to Janus, for Roman’s sake, because Virgil wasn’t about to ask Janus for anything if he could help it. “Cream and three sugars.”

Roman was busy sitting up and stretching his back, so he probably didn’t hear — or rather, feel — the sudden pause that came from the kitchen. Virgil didn’t look over his shoulder, but he did wait for Janus to say something, because he was obviously _thinking_ something.

“I thought you liked your coffee straight black,” Janus said finally.

That _was_ how Virgil liked his coffee, and although he was expecting Janus to remember, it was still a little startling to hear. He wasn’t about to do something stupid though, like say that out loud. “If you know how I like it, there shouldn’t be a problem, should there?” he said over his shoulder, instead, and felt vaguely like he was Logan instead of Virgil. That wasn't a very Virgil-like thing to say.

There was another pause before the sound of mugs moving water running resumed.

Virgil wondered about the exact moment when Janus realised that Virgil hadn’t ordered for himself and had assumed him to remember Virgil’s own preference as well.

The coffee was ready by the time the pair made it over to the dining table. Virgil eased himself into the seat carefully, rubbing the back of his neck. Falling asleep on the couch in that position, no matter how appealing in the moment, was not comfortable to wake up to.

Roman seemed to have no trouble with how he slept, looking content as ever to slouch in his chair (Virgil hoped he wasn’t passing on the habit) and sip at his drink.

Virgil hadn’t really believed Janus, but he was still startled when Logan walked down the stairs much before seven o'clock. He whirled to glare at Janus, who was still shuffling around in the kitchen.

“Thought you said no one else would be up,” he grumbled. Janus looked up and saw Logan. He looked startled.

“I... suppose I lied,” he said, but he sounded surprised. Virgil almost scowled, but he saw a hint of a smile at the corners of Roman’s mouth, and he was stunned into forgetting to be angry.

“Good morning,” Logan said. He looked a little weary at Janus’ presence, but then Roman grinned sunnily at him, and Virgil watched as his shoulders loosened slightly.

“Morning, Specs.”

Logan didn’t wait for Janus to offer him anything and instead went about making himself his own coffee. Virgil hid a smile. He wasn’t sure if he was oblivious to Janus trying to help, or making a point by ignoring him, but regardless it was still one of the things he loved about the logical side.

“Oh!”

Virgil winced at Patton’s voice from the landing of the staircase.

“I see everyone got up before me, for once!”

Virgil watched Roman out of the corner of his eye, and something twisted in his stomach when Roman’s smile dropped, and he went tense.

“Anyone have any preference for breakfast?” Patton asked as he crossed the living room.

“I was planning on making pancakes,” Janus said cautiously, and wasn’t _that_ just a ridiculous image. “It seems to be the... family favourite.”

Patton practically beamed. “Good thinking!” He paused at the dinner table and grinned at Virgil and Roman. “Mornin’, kiddos.”

Virgil grunted in reply. Normally he’d make more of an effort for Patton, but something still didn’t sit right with him about the moral side. He sensed Patton’s crestfallen look but forced himself not to react. He kept his gaze on the dark surface of his coffee.

“Good morning, Patton,” Roman said quietly. Virgil looked up and thought he and Patton must have had matching astonished expressions.

Roman wasn’t rude (most of the time) — on purpose, at least — but Virgil couldn’t blame him for being hurt after... everything. He certainly hadn’t had an issue with the creative side being unusually quiet around Patton. Usually, he’d only smile — brittle and forced and so painfully fake — whenever Patton greeted him, and politely decline if Patton ever offered something.

This had to be the first time in... at least a few weeks where he greeted _back._ Objectively, Virgil figured this wasn’t and maybe shouldn’t be a big deal, but his damn heart seemed to think otherwise, swelling with... either pride or affection, or maybe both, because Roman did that to him.

Patton recovered quicker than Virgil and smiled gently down at the prince. “Can I get you guys anything?” he asked. Virgil shook his head slowly, but Roman hesitated.

“Um...” he said, and Patton tilted his head attentively. That seemed to be encouragement enough, because Roman said, “Chocolate chips in the pancakes?”

Logan sighed from the kitchen, but Patton clapped his hands together. “Oh, me too. I think it’s a chocolate day, today.”

“Patton,” said Logan, borderline petulantly, “you know how unhealthy that is for—”

“Hush.” Virgil’s eyebrows skyrocketed up his forehead when Janus waved Logan away with a smirk. “One day of chocolate chip pancakes is not going to be detrimental to our health.”

Patton clapped again, delighted. Logan rolled his eyes, grumbling something like, “taking Patton’s side, as usual.”

“Oh, you know you like chocolate chip,” Patton said as he bounced over to nudge the logical side unapologetically and throw his arms around Janus' shoulders. Virgil huffed in amusement and turned back to his coffee, but Roman caught his eye.

The prince was looking between the group in the kitchen and Virgil, gaze impossibly soft and warm. Meeting Virgil’s gaze, something akin to mischief flickered in his eyes. With a subtle twitch of his fingers, a pair of black-rimmed glasses, identical to Logan’s and Patton’s, appeared on his face, and he made a sulky expression.

Virgil, who had gone to take a sip and was only now realising Roman was imitating a grumpy Logan, snorted coffee from his nose.

Roman eyes almost popped out of their skull as he choked on his own laughter. There was snickering coming from the kitchen, but it was overridden by Patton’s scolding and Logan’s offended rebuttal.

“What’s all this?” Remus asked when he popped into existence atop the table. Virgil was too busy scrubbing at his nose and trying to wipe the coffee from the wood surface, so he didn’t bother with casting Remus any dark looks.

Roman, however, didn’t seem to have an issue with confronting his brother, as usual. He swatted at Remus, shoving him. “Get off the table, you hulking gremlin.”

“Are you guys snorting stuff _without me?”_ Remus sounded genuinely offended as he tipped off the table and landed with a _thump_ on his back, legs still cramped in the air like a dead cockroach.

“Not quite,” Virgil grumbled under his breath and he wiped the last of the coffee from his face.

“Shame,” Remus said, standing. He looked around, planting his hands on his hips. “You should live with a little _excitement_ for once in your lives.”

“Remus,” Logan called from the kitchen, and Virgil waited for him to scold the dark creative side, but instead the next thing Logan said was, “Catch.”

Remus went rigid, his pupils blowing up as something was flung through the air. Remus lunged for it, caught it between his teeth like some kind of deranged dog, and landed in a crouch, sitting back on his haunches to gnaw at... was that _raw meat?_

Virgil looked at Logan in horror. The logical side looked merely bemused as he shrugged in response. “I’ve found he enjoys steak.”

“Raw?” Virgil uttered.

Logan peered curiously over at Virgil. “How else?”

Roman choked on his own laughter for a second time, and Virgil wouldn’t be able to hide his smile even if he tried.

So, Patton and Janus continued to maneuver around each other to make breakfast, Logan talked with Remus who had to speak awkwardly around the chunks of meat he tore into, and Roman and Virgil shot amused grins at each other.

And, as strange of a life as it was, life nonetheless in the mindscape continued.


End file.
